


Prelude

by mistr3ssquickly



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: F/M, oops i forgot to write something with plot again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 14:17:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10832991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistr3ssquickly/pseuds/mistr3ssquickly
Summary: A look at Luke and Leia in the tense days leading up to Han's rescue.... that makes it sound way more serious than it is. This is smut, and little else.





	Prelude

They shouldn’t be messing around, Leia knows, not with Lando sleeping in the next room, just on the other side of little more than the thick tapestry hanging from the ceiling, not with their rescue plan moving so soon from discussion to action, the need for them to be rested, to be as sharp and quick and strong as they can possibly be, as deep and real as the need for their weapons to be powerful, for their luck to hold out.

But she can taste desperation in the kiss Luke gives her, a mirror of her own; the awful, impotent fear lining their thoughts like sharp rocks at the edge of the sea quieted, even if only a little, in the warmth of shared touch, of Luke’s weight pressed against her, his hands gentle, touching her, stroking her. Offering her comfort she can accept only in the darkness of their shared bedroom, safe in the blankets of their shared bed.

She spreads her legs when he rocks against her, nestling his leg between her thighs, the time-softened linen of the breeches he wears to bed whenever they aren’t alone pulling gently at her nightgown, an unspoken reminder between them that they _aren’t_ alone, adding an almost exhibitionistic thrill to the touch of Luke’s fingertips against her hip, questing blindly for the hem of her nightgown, pushing it up. Baring her lower body to the warmth of the day trapped in the thick clay walls of their home, to the press of defined muscle against her cunt when she rocks her hips up, squeezing Luke’s thigh between her own, rubbing her hip against the hard length of his cock, trapped between them.

“I want you,” Luke whispers against her ear, easing his hand between his thigh and her cunt, his fingers insistent as he presses them into her, the heel of his hand pressing firmly against her clit. “Please, Leia, I want you.”

She squeezes tight around his fingers and pulls him down for a kiss in answer, rocking her hips into his touch, arousal swelling in her like the heat of the first sun rising over the sand as he moves his hand against her in a slow circle, matching her rhythm as best he can, his fingers curling inside her. He works her until she’s slick in his hand, kissing her like he’s starved for it. Pulls his hand away before she’s even close to orgasm, sucking his fingers clean before pulling his breeches down, his cock dripping against her thigh even before he’s managed to fully disrobe.

“Can I?” he whispers, taking himself in hand and leaning down over her, close enough for his breath to disturb the errant locks of hair escaped from her braid, tickling her forehead. She nods and pulls her knees up, opening herself to him, surprised when he guides his cock into her immediately without any further prelude or foreplay, the slickness of his arousal helping him to slide in deep, his hips jerking in an uneven rhythm as he settles inside her, his breath harsh against her shoulder. He pushes himself back and pulls her legs up to rest on his shoulders after just a few seconds, then ruts into her deep and fast, his fingers gripping the bedclothes beneath her body hard enough that she can hear his nails sliding against the fabric. She’s not seen him so deeply, uncontrollably aroused since their first night together, fucking each other desperately in the wild aftermath of their narrow, unbelievable victory on Yavin IV, his fucking rough and animal that night and this night as well, his obvious desperation for release turning her on just as much as the feel of him moving inside her, the hard length of his cock stretching her open, rubbing her just right, her cunt aching around him, clenching with each thrust.

He curls over her when he climaxes, sucking in a sharp breath and fucking her _hard,_ the bed shaking under the force of it, his lower lip caught between his teeth and his eyes squeezed shut. Trying desperately to be quiet for all that his orgasm seems to be tearing him apart, his chest heaving where it’s braced against her legs as he comes down from it, his body seizing in a shiver with each aftershock that passes through him, his cock jerking inside her cunt. He rests his forehead against her chest, panting as if he’d just run a mile, his breath warm even through the nightgown she’s not even removed, and when she dips her chin down to kiss the top of his head, he reaches up to drag his hand down her shoulder, stroking her arm in an awkward gesture of affection.

“Thank you,” he whispers when he lifts his head, finally, drifting a gentle kiss against her lips. “I really -- I needed that.”

Leia smiles, safe in the darkness wrapped around them to let all of the affection she feels for Luke show in her expression, and lifts her hand to run it through his hair, sweat warm among the soft blonde strands. “You felt good,” she whispers back to him, tracing the curve of his ear with her thumb.

He turns his head and kisses the inside of her wrist, breathing out a low sigh as he pulls himself free of her body and moves down the bed, bunching her nightgown up across her belly and leaning down to mouth at the mess he’s made of her inner thigh. Leia closes her eyes and draws a deep breath as he moves higher, opening her with his hands and licking her where she’s sensitive, rubbed just the right side of raw from his desperate fucking. Dips his tongue inside her body, sucking gently at her, at the mess he’s made of her. He’s never been shy about his own ejaculate, never hesitated to kiss her after she’s used her mouth to bring him off, but he’s also always been careful to see to her pleasure first when they fuck, taking his own pleasure only after she’s come. The feel of him licking his own come from her, his mouth slick with it when he moves higher, dragging the flat of his tongue over her clit, has her heart beating hard against her ribs, her hands shaking as she reaches down to thread her fingers through his hair, breathing hard as he mouths her, his usual enthusiasm for her pleasure as powerful as ever.

He presses the fingers of his organic hand into her once he’s gotten her fully hard, curling them in time with the rhythm of his tongue, something she suspects he’s learnt with a male lover, the pressure nice but not doing for her what she suspects he thinks it’s doing, the constant drag of his tongue over her clit better than anything she’s ever felt, either from her own touch or another lover’s, even Han’s, skilled though he is in bed. She pushes her hips up, just enough to feel Luke’s tongue on more of her, bathing her lips in long, steady licks, the wash of his breath over her making her shiver, chewing at her lower lip to keep from voicing her pleasure. She tightens her grip on his hair when her orgasm starts to build deep in her belly, her cunt squeezing around his hand as he licks at her faster, her hips lifting in an instinctive bid for more pressure, more friction, which Luke gives her, licking at her like he’s starved for it, just as desperate for her to climax as she is herself.

When it finally hits, powerful and jarring and utterly satisfying, she has to cover her mouth with her hand just to keep from screaming Luke’s name, pushing herself up to curl over Luke’s head as her climax blossoms into a full-body sensation, rocking up into the sweet pressure of his mouth against her cunt, the harsh rhythm of his hand, fucking her just as hard with his fingers as he did with his cock. He stays with her through it, licking at her frantically as she comes apart under his tongue, wringing aftershocks from her long after she’s used to coming down from a climax, even with him, her body wracked with it, her muscles weak and shaky when she finally pushes him away, panting hard in the dry air. He looks up at her and licks his lips, sighing like he’s pleased with himself, like he knows _just_ how completely and utterly he’s taken her apart with little more than his tongue. Leia breathes out a contented sigh and reaches down to touch herself, feeling the swollen, hypersensitive nub of her clit, the slick, swollen folds of her cunt, spread wide and wet around Luke’s fingers, stroking them with her fingertips as he pulls them out, lifting them to his mouth to suck them clean once again, the taste of his own semen mixed with her pleasure faint but noticeable when she sits up and kisses him.

“I’ll be right back,” she whispers against his mouth, slipping as quietly as she can from their bed and smoothing her nightgown, focusing on walking gracefully past the curtain, past Lando’s cot, moving as if her thighs weren’t streaked with the evidence of her coupling with Luke, her muscles weak still from the exertion of her orgasm.

She cleans herself in the close confines of the ‘fresher, washes the sweat from her face and throat and breasts, the dry air pulling the dampness from her skin even before she’s pulled her nightgown back on. Lando is awake when she crosses back through the main room to the bed, doing a good job of pretending he’s asleep, but she can tell that he’s not, that he’s fully awake and alert, his heartbeat reverberating through the staticky air, somehow, brushing against her own in an arrhythmic jumble. She wonders, as she slips past the curtain and climbs back into bed beside Luke if Lando heard them, if he knows what they were doing. If he cares.

He has no reason to care, she muses, beyond thinking them rude for engaging in such a private act when he’s so nearby, maybe thinking them immature, unable to go a night or two without enjoying each other. Which they can, she knows from the nights they’ve _not_ made love, simply enjoying each other’s closeness, the comfort of sleeping side-by-side. And besides, she thinks, if _half_ the stories Han told her about Lando on the long flight to Bespin were even half-true, then Lando has no grounds on which to judge _anyone_ too harshly, Han’s description of his sexual exploits with the other man longer and more colorful and, in some cases, more dubiously legal than anything Leia would ever even _consider_ doing, with Luke or Han or any other sentient in the universe. Nothing at all to compare with two adults making love in the dark privacy of their bedroom, putting for their best effort to be quiet about it, at very least, the simplicity of it oddly fitting for the simple nature of her relationship with Luke, the natural affection they’ve developed, each for the other, over the years.

And besides all of that, she thinks as she curves her body around Luke’s side, pushing herself up just enough to kiss him deeply, kissing him with all of the love and trust and gratitude grown heavy between them over their months together on Tatooine, they’ll be going up against one of the deadliest crime bosses on the planet in the coming days, their chances of success only moderately lower than their chances of survival, and _those_ were so low that Luke shut Threepio down for calculating them out loud, his cheeks burning and eyes bright with fear that mirrored her own. She strokes her hand down the familiar contours of Luke’s chest, rests it over his side, feeling the plush give where he’s retained just the barest hint of his babyfat softness, and kisses the line of his jaw. If she’s to die on Luke’s homeworld, she reasons, then she has the right to _live_ there, to love Luke with her whole being if that’s what makes her feel good. To enjoy him, to make him feel good as well.

“I love you,” Luke whispers to her, tipping her chin up so that he can kiss her on the lips.

Leia smiles into the kiss, tightening her hand against Luke’s side. “And I, you,” she whispers, the words hanging gentle around them, warm as she drifts to sleep, wrapped around Luke’s side.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_Writer rambling_ :  
Happy Revenge of the Fifth! Enjoy some Skycest smut my brain decided needed To Be a Thing today, with just a dollop of sap to sweeten the deal. I don’t know what’s up with all the pointless smut I’m writing these days, but my suspicion is that being a Super Serious Author writing a Super Serious Book that doesn’t have much in the way of romantic relationships is making me crave this sort of crap? Who knows. And who cares, really, so long as I’m having fun writing it and you like reading it. I’d call that a win-win, if I had to call it something.

As a side-note: Poor Lando. This is the second time I’ve written a story where he ended up with balls as blue as [Max Rebo](https://vignette3.wikia.nocookie.net/starwars/images/4/46/Maxrebo.jpg), and really I don’t know _why_ that is, save that I just really love Han, Leia, and Luke together in whatever combination I can get, and Lando ... gets left out?

I’ll feel bad about this later. Maybe.


End file.
